FALLEN: A Dark Mystery Romance (LOVE IS WAR Book 1)

by Shayne Ford

  “Okay then. I’ll let you go back to work. I’ll see you tonight,” he says before he hangs up the phone.

  Half an hour later, I walk out of the shower, pat my hair dry, slip on a pair of wool pants and a mohair sweater, and make a beeline for the kitchen.

  Luna follows me closely.

  “Come, little girl,” I say as I open a jar and retrieve a couple of snacks for her.

  Content, she munches on them not far from me while I wait for the dripping coffee to fill my cup.

  The first sip of aromatic liquid does its magic, reviving me completely. My senses become acutely aware of my surroundings, the fog lifting from my brain as my thoughts begin racing.

  “Let’s go, baby.”

  Luna does her little happy dance as I pivot toward the office. I pick up her leash from my chair and put it on her, my eyes swinging to the phone.

  It’s almost noon. George should stop by any moment now.

  “We have to wait,” I mutter as my little dog starts waggling her tail in anticipation. “You’ll get to see your friend immediately.”

  I deposit her on the armchair while I shift back to my desktop. I flip the laptop open. The clip starts running again.

  I check the web address. It’s unfamiliar to me, and somehow, it’s connected to the website where I found that forum, yet I can’t figure out why it popped on my screen. The browser doesn’t let me go back to figure out what link I clicked on.

  Unable to come up with an answer I decide to close the window and clear the history. The last thing I want is someone else stumbling on this.

  I finish closing everything and erasing any trace of that clip when I hear George’s dog barking.

  Smiling, I turn around and pick up Luna.

  Her eyes sparkle with excitement.

  “It’s about time,” I say, as I glance around my office one last time, and dash to the door.

  Walking our dogs this time of day has become our little routine. Usually, I’d take a break from working, while George would stroll with me to work up an appetite before lunch.

  It was after his wife’s passing, a few months back when we started to coordinate our schedules so that we could walk the dogs at the same time.

  By the time we enter the park, the sun starts peeking through the gray clouds, and minutes later it begins glowing over a patch of blue sky.

  The park is crammed with people eager to soak up the sun before the long, dark days of winter come. Moms with small children, students who work part-time jobs in the coffeehouse located on the other side of the park, and of course, people like George and me, retirees and those who work from home and have the luxury to walk their dogs at noon.

  We find a bench not far from the water. Ducks quack nearby as our dogs have a blast barking at them.

  A few children stop in front of us, their parents, acquaintances of George. The kids start playing with the dogs while the adults begin talking.

  I interject myself into the conversation here and there, all the while shielding my eyes from the sun.

  Once in a while, my gaze drifts away, my mind getting distracted. It doesn’t take long before it starts doing the same old routine. Collecting bits and pieces of information, images, and words and then, finding the invisible string that connects them while feeding me a torrent of odd questions.

  The sun spills a golden glow over everything, making the children’s eyes sparkle and their smooth cheeks get flushed.

  My gaze hovers over the lake, the ducks and then the people, mechanically registering their grins, expressions and their ticks. I see everything a normal eye would miss.

  A smile that someone pushes back or an expression that they try to hide.

  To me, it’s there to see. So obvious. Evident.

  Narrowing my eyes, I shift my gaze away from the people and shift my focus on the grass and water, the birds and dogs, and then the kids. Their sounds blend and roll in my ears as my eyes absorb everything intensely.

  Patches of color become a short-lived obsession, my eyes jumping from one to the other, sifting through them, categorize them as my mind attaches them meanings.

  A red scarf, a pumpkin-colored coat, black boots and a blue sweater. Red again, on the sidewalk, followed by orange and yellow and copper, my sight distinguishing every nuance in the rug of leaves.

  Gray–– the pavement. Black-– the benches.

  I look up and indulge in the blue sky glazed with the golden light.

  It’s a marvelous day that will soon be nothing but a memory.

  A little girl fashioning a double-breasted red coat stops in front of me and starts playing with Luna as well.

  I dip my gaze for a moment before I zoom out and continue my journey peppered with bright colors and sounds.

  Shoes walk back and forth. Heels, boots, men’s shoes.

  Men’s shoes.

  A dark-haired men’s shoes.

  My gaze gets snagged and starts trailing the man who just passed us by. I slowly drag my gaze up as his large strides create more distance between us.

  Something feels familiar about him, but there’s no time to analyze it. I swivel my head, yet I keep my eyes on him as he smoothly pulls away.

  People walk up and down the alley, breaking my line of sight but even so... I get to see enough to know.

  My grin fades away as my blood turns cold, my lips parting in surprise as I soak in the details. The way the man walks and wears his coat. His black coat draped over his shoulders.

  His hair.

  He glances to the side, a ray of sun licking his smooth, clean-shaven face, a few specks of silver sparkling in his hair.

  Barely visible, I’d say.

  A mysterious smile curves his lips.

  He stops near the lake and shifts his position slightly, allowing me to get a glimpse of his fitted dress shirt, and fashionable black suit pants. His hard chest pushes against the fabric, his hands tucked in his pockets like the first time I saw him.

  Even without that piece of information I still have a revelation.

  He makes that small motion of his hips that turns me warm inside.

  Instinctively, I rise my eyes. He looks the other way, refusing to show his face.

  “Are you ready to go back?”

  George startles me.

  I shift my eyes to him.

  “Huh?”

  His smile loses its oomph.

  “What happened?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” I say, and then I realize.

  The kids who were playing with our dogs and their parents are long gone, more people leaving the park as the clouds start gathering across the sky.

  “It’s going to rain,” he says while searching my eyes. “We should go back.”

  “Yes... Of course,” I mutter, my mind still hung up on the image of that man.

  I follow George’s example and rise to my feet, my eyes sweeping the park one last time. Lifeless colors look at me, no longer embraced by the warmth of the sun. The ducks fly away, the few dogs left and their owners heading to the exit as well.

  The wind starts blowing.

  Stubbornly, I look around hoping to see that man again.

  There’s no one else around us.

  Baffled and disappointed, I make the trip back with George.

  It’s only when we exit the park and walk on the sidewalk that I feel that familiar stare on me again.

  My phone starts ringing, shattering my thoughts. The sensation dies out, the reality moving in.

  “Hey, Anna. May I call you back?”

  “Sure, of course,” I say as we cross the street.

  George and I split ways at the corner of the block.

  He vanishes inside his home while I walk up the street. That strange feeling comes back to me, the heat of a stare burning the back of my head, spurring goosebumps on my skin.

  I pick up Luna and wrap my arms around her as if I want to protect her when all I want is to tame my nerves.

  Nervous, I scan the road. No
cars pass by. No people.

  And then...

  Just as I take the stairs up to the entrance, I hear that soft, sweet clinking of the wind chimes, and I sense that irresistible pull that draws my eyes back to the street.

  Close to the next block, a black limousine pulls smoothly near the sidewalk, a man clad in a black coat slipping in.

  My hand holding the key stops midair in front of the door as my memory gets a snapshot of him.

  He tilts his chin down as he slips onto the back bench, bangs of dark hair concealing his eyes.

  He’s young as I suspected. I don’t think he’s past thirty.

  Holding my dog in my arms, I shift slightly and face the road, waiting for the car to slide by.

  Seconds later, the black limousine crawls down the street, the tinted windows revealing nothing, except for the driver sitting behind the wheel.

  He keeps his eyes on the road while I wish I could see through the tinted glass.

  A shiver races down my back as if in all that darkness I have the chance to lock eyes with that mysterious stranger.

  A few more moments tick by after the car vanishes around the corner, and only then I peel my gaze away and walk in.

  6

  TESS

  “A man?? What man?”

  Anna takes a bite of cheese and starts chewing slowly, looking at me curiously.

  She brings the glass of wine to her lips, her gaze glued to my eyes as she sips the ruby liquid.

  Heat rolls over my face. I’m torn and anxious, and already grappling with a tone of doubt.

  It’s so, so stupid. And telling her this weird story makes me look downright crazy, and yet I can’t help and bring it up.

  “It’s nothing,” I say, gesturing dismissively.

  I shift my eyes back to my plate and spin my fork in my salad, acting preoccupied.

  She sets her glass of wine on the table and slides her hand onto mine.

  “How’s the food?” asks the waitress as she smoothly stops next to our table.

  I raise my eyes.

  “It’s good. Thank you.”

  She smiles and walks away.

  I take a swig of wine.

  “What man, Tess?” Anna asks with a quiet voice.

  Our eyes lock.

  She no longer smiles, her concern fueling my angst.

  “Please, tell me...” she mutters.

  I move my gaze away, slowly shaking my head.

  “It’s something that, um... It has caught my eye lately. I can’t even tell if he’s real or not,” I murmur, my eyes lingering on the wet window.

  The rain keeps coming down, painting the streets gray. It’s dim and foggy outside, the streetlights barely threading a faint glow through the fabric of the night.

  Sheltered under colorful umbrellas, people walk briskly down the street. Cars shimmering with beads of rain zoom by, splashing water.

  “What do you mean if he’s real or not?” she asks, peeling her hand away from mine.

  She looks as if she cannot breathe. Her face is pale, her eyes wide.

  I let out a soft chuckle.

  “No, no. It’s not what you think. I’m not making him up if that’s what you think. He is as real as you and me, but not in the context that I’ve assigned to him.”

  She breathes out a sigh of relief and leans back in her seat, looking slightly more relaxed.

  “What context?” she asks.

  “Lately, I’ve seen him a lot… Around my place, mostly.”

  She cocks an eyebrow, her smile slowly fading away.

  I flip my hand up.

  “You don’t have to tell me. It sounds odd. I know.”

  “When did you start seeing him?”

  “Last week...” I say, sensing the grip of panic tightening on me. “One day I saw him across the street. He was standing on the sidewalk.”

  “What does he look like?” she asks, genuinely interested.

  “Dark-brown hair. Slender but well-built, always dressed up. Long coat, suit pants and dress shirt. Dark green eyes, and expressive eyebrows.”

  I pause.

  Breathless, she searches my eyes.

  “I didn’t get a good glimpse of his face. There were those few moments when I caught sight of him, only to look at an empty space a few seconds later.”

  I pause, unsure whether to continue or not. The last thing I want is to sound like a lunatic, and yet, for some reason, I’m willing to take that risk.

  “What really felt strange to me was the fact that I sensed his presence whenever he was around...”

  Her eyebrows lift, her face expressing bewilderment.

  “I can’t explain it... And I can’t exactly describe that feeling either, but I knew when he was around.”

  Her face elongates, her eyebrows arching even more.

  “Have you talked to Allan?”

  I start shaking my head.

  “No, no. I can’t tell him something like that. He’d think that I lost my mind.”

  I go quiet for a moment before I speak again.

  “A few days ago, I was with George in the park. We were walking our dogs. The man was there as well. At least I think it was the same man. I don’t remember seeing him in the park before, although I can’t rely on my memory entirely. Most of the time, I pay no attention to the people I cross paths with. ”

  I draw my mouth shut, purposely omitting the mysterious bouquet of roses I found on the stairs and the stranger’s striking resemblance to the man from the clip that somehow made it to my laptop.

  “What if you're being followed?”

  I look at her incredulously and begin to chuckle.

  “Why would anyone follow me?”

  She shrugs.

  “I don’t know. I’d feel nervous if I were you. That’s why I think it’s better if you talk to Allan… Perhaps, you should go to the police as well.”

  My smile dies out.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  She nods a couple of times.

  “Yes, I am. You don’t know what he’s after.”

  A soft grin tugs at my lips.

  “Whatever he is after I’m sure he can find it on his street. He’s young, good-looking, and the last time I spotted him he was climbing in a limousine that had a private driver. I can’t imagine someone like me would be even on his radar.”

  She lets out a long exhale.

  “I don’t know what to say then...”

  She examines my face for a few seconds.

  “Doesn’t he make you feel nervous? Scared?”

  It’s my turn to shrug, my gaze sliding to the table.

  “I don’t know,” I say, staring vacantly at the powder blue linen.

  “I’m not sure I can define the way he makes me feel. And I’m not sure it matters.”

  I flick a different kind of gaze to her, confident and stripped of emotion, in an attempt to show to her that he is not important to me.

  “It’s probably nothing, although this story would be great if I wanted to write a book.”

  “Why don’t you do it?”

  “I want to,” I say, and sip some wine.

  A server nears our table. The man collects the plates as someone else brings the desserts.

  “What’s keeping you then?” Ann asks, sinking her spoon into the molten lava cake.

  “Work. I need to make money before I do any writing. I can’t spend time on a book that may or may not be good in the end.”

  “I’m sure it’s going to be good,” she says, taking another bite.

  She moans, delighted.

  I get a taste of the lemon curd cake.

  “And I’m sure Allan would file for divorce. Or find a mistress. Or both,” I say, grinning.

  “He’s not that kind of guy.”

  “None of them are until they meet the right person,” I say, making a reference to my father.

  She looks down at her dessert, smiling.

  I tear my gaze away from her and glance out the window
, my mind still focused on my words, my eyes sweeping the glass, distracted.

  The rain stopped falling.

  People walk briskly across the street, hugging their coats closer. I almost peel my gaze away when a small group of men and women catches my eye.

  A woman steals the spotlight, a red coat and scarlet lipstick setting off her fair complexion and raven her. A peal of laughter falls from her beautiful lips.

  A strange feeling rolls over me as I slowly move my eyes away from her fiery coat to the men and women who keep her company.

  Right behind her, I notice the silhouette of a man. He’s standing mostly in a cone of shadow, but one slight turn offers me a snapshot of his profile.

  My heart rushes, skipping beats.

  Washed with disbelief, I watch him.

  It can’t be him. Can he?

  And yet, I recognize the back of his hair.

  Unlike the people in the group he faces the street, and yet, he seems in no hurry to cross it.

  Slowly, I set my spoon on the plate.

  “Oh, my God...” I mutter, my eyes glued to the window.

  “What is it?” Anna asks as she follows the direction of my gaze.

  “It’s him,” I quietly say, zooming in on the man.

  A gloved hand brushes a few strands of hair away from his brow. I get a glimpse of his chiseled jawline, and his teasingly curled up upper lip.

  A hole forms in my stomach, my insides ready to collapse.

  I push my chair back and give Anna a quick glance.

  “Wait here,” I say, pulling out of my chair.

  Hurriedly, I maneuver my way out of the restaurant and step out on the sidewalk, clad only in a pencil skirt, boots, and a silk shirt.

  Drops of cold rain fall on my shoulders, soaking the delicate silk. I hug myself to keep myself warm as I look for the man.

  The group I’ve noticed earlier enters the restaurant.

  The few people standing on the sidewalk are waiting to cross the street. I take a few steps in their direction, my eyes skimming their faces as I keep searching for the man.

  None of them is him.

  I turn around and spot a silhouette that mostly resembles him. I grab the man’s arm.

  He swivels his head and brings his eyes to mine, taking me in.

  A smile sits on his lips.

  “Yes?”